


If Only

by Genie60



Series: Poldark Series 4-Bits and Pieces [2]
Category: Poldark (TV 2015)
Genre: F/M, Infidelity, Marriage, Post-Season/Series 03 AU, Reconciliation, What we wished they'd say, if only
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 22:05:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12873981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Genie60/pseuds/Genie60
Summary: What might Ross and Demelza talk about the morning after her time with Hugh.Post S3 finale.





	If Only

**Author's Note:**

> "If only" 
> 
> Born from a discussion on Facebook about Ross and Demelza's flaws and what I would love to see in some way for S4.
> 
> Written on a spur of the moment so any errors or omissions are strictly mine. The only beta I have is me.

She rose first, sliding out of bed to quickly change before he noticed she was gone. Despite the tension between them when she returned the night before, he had held her until they fell asleep. Her request to not ask any question heeded without another word passing between them.  They must have both been exhausted because she doesn’t remember dreaming nor did she move from his arms until the morning when she needed to use the water closet.  Now as she slipped out of the green dress, she felt as though she was shedding a layer of herself. The soft material would forever be a reminder of what transpired merely twenty-four hours prior. The vision of another’s hands undoing the hooks, revealing parts of her body only Ross had seen shaking her anew.  If only Ross had heard her when she told him Hugh was not a dream; that he was very real.  If only, after she sung that song and saw Ross’s face, her husband had taken her by the hand and led her home to make love to her and reinforce his claim on her heart.  If only, she hadn’t asked Prudie what she meant about Elizabeth. 

She threw the dress into the basket of laundry, not even sure she wanted to keep it and put on her working clothes. While things needed to be discussed between her and Ross, life went on. The children needed to be tended to as did their home.  Making her way out of their bedroom down the hall, she entered Jeremy and Clowance’s room to find them still sleeping.  Gazing down at her son and daughter, proof of the love she and Ross shared, she couldn’t fathom ever leaving them.  Their faces reflections of both of them.  Jeremy with his dark hair and eyes, but the love of nature that she had.  Clowance with her mother’s coloring and her father’s spirit.  Each one conceived after some traumatic event brought into this world full of hope.  She bent down to give them a kiss and debated waking them, ultimately deciding not to.  Better they sleep a while longer so that she could gather her thoughts and feelings before facing them and the rest of the day.

Prudie was in the kitchen starting breakfast when she walked in. The women exchanged glances but said nothing.  Demelza held her head high; not shirking from the look of guilt the older woman gave her. Did the servant feel responsible for what transpired yesterday?  In fact, did she even know? Did Demelza’s face give away that she had committed adultery and was Prudie judging her for it?  Wasn’t it she who encouraged and practically told her to do it as retaliation for Ross’s seemingly revised interest in Elizabeth?  Not in the mood to linger on the whys or hows, Demelza took the tray with tea and scones and went into the parlor, sitting at the table, waiting.  Pouring a cup, she heard movement coming from upstairs and assumed Ross was up.  As she sipped she started to formulate what she was going to say to him. Or rather, how she was going to answer his inevitable question:  Did you give yourself to Hugh Armitage?

********

He rolled over to find the bed next to him empty.  For a moment he panicked thinking that her return last night was a dream and that she was really gone.  Rising, he realized he was still in his clothes, clearly falling asleep in them. He walked around the room but saw no sign of her either being there or having left until he saw the emerald green of that dress thrown in the basket.  So she did come home last night and lay in his arms through the night.  He bent to pick up and held it to his face, inhaling, not quite sure what he was hoping for.  Evidence of what happened or didn’t happen?  What he got was the distinct essence of Demelza.  Vanilla, musk, and sea.  It was the last scent that irked him because his gut told him she had been on the beach with him.  Hugh.   Anger started to bubble inside him but he wasn’t ready to think about him just yet.  If only he hadn’t rescued him. If only he had told Demelza he didn’t like her entertaining the young sailor in their home. If only he told her he didn’t mean it when he said to find someone else. 

He dropped the dress back on the pile and changed into a clean shirt.  Following the same path as his wife had a few minutes earlier, he checked on his children then went downstairs to find her.  Last night he had wanted to ask her what they were going to do but she didn’t want to talk. Instead, he gathered her into his arms, wanting to hate her but loving her more because he knew that whatever had occurred between his wife and the poet was partially his doing.  Now in the bright light of day, they needed to face their actions.  Not just hers with Hugh but his with Elizabeth.  On the latter, he didn’t know which was worse. His initial indiscretion from years ago or his most recent misstep that Demelza found out about this time from someone else.  The repercussions of his first error were never discussed even though she had tried over and over again to do so.  He didn’t understand why until now. If only they had talked about that horrible night and what might have resulted from it, perhaps they could have cleared that away, put it on the shelf, with no need to discuss again.  But as usual, avoidance was one of his flaws. As he walked down the stairs he heard soft humming coming from the parlor. The same song she first sang to him almost ten years prior; the song that made him realize he was in love with his wife.  Now, look where they were. If only things were as simple as they were back then.

******

She heard his footsteps and turned from the vase of flowers she was picking through.  Her hands shook with the expired flora as she looked into his eyes, expecting to find hate but instead seeing something else.  She recognized it right away because it was the same look she must have had on her face the morning he came home from Trenwith.  Without a word she walked to the table and poured another cup of tea for him, taking a seat.  She kept her head bowed, afraid to linger on his face. Doing so would most likely release the tears she was holding at bay since last night and she wasn’t quite ready to let go. She pushed the cup towards him, their fingers brushing as he reached for it. It was then she lifted her head and looked at her husband.  He said nothing.   They drank quietly, neither wanting to speak first. Demelza prepared a scone and passed it to him without his asking.  The familiarity between them second nature.  He murmured ‘thank you’ but did not eat.  She took nothing but not able to sit still, stood and went back to doing menial tasks around the room.  He watched her for a few minutes then spoke.

“Demelza?”

“Yes,” she responded her back towards him.

“We need to discuss what’s happened.  What’s going to happen with us now,” he said.

“I’m not sure I can Ross.  Not yet,” she said.

She turned now to look at him and saw that he was standing, seemingly wanting to come near her.  She sat on the settle and taking the hint he did the same but in the opposite seat.

“We must.  If only you’d waited before leaving me on the hill yesterday,” he said. 

His tone almost sounded like he was scolding her. As if he had any right to do such a thing after everything he’s done.

“If only you’d told me about your visit with Elizabeth at Sawle Church so that I wouldn’t hear it as idle gossip from our servant,” she countered.

He sat back, her words lashing out at him with an accusatory sound.

“Demelza, it was nothing.  Truly,” he said.

“Then why keep it a secret? Why lie to me that night when I told you what was in my heart?  Why couldn’t you tell me about Elizabeth?”

She was on the verge of tears but took a deep breath and continued.

“If only you’d trusted me enough Ross.  If only you’d trusted in our love,” she whispered.

“If only you’d believed that Elizabeth is no longer a part of my heart or our lives Demelza,” he replied.

“Isn’t she?”

Ross looked directly at her and knew what she meant. Valentine.  He was torn. Do they continue this conversation, knowing it could go places he wasn’t ready to deal with?  Or do they take the plunge and rip the scab off the wound reopening it so it may heal completely and without infection this time.

“You’re right. She is but not in the way you think. Not in the way that matters,” he said sincerely. 

He rose and walked to sit next to her, taking her hand.

“Not in the way you are.”

She looked down at their joined hands and again thought if only he had done this months ago.

“So you say, Ross.”

She was skeptical still.

“I do say.  That day in Sawle church I said goodbye to Elizabeth.  As she did me.  Her life is with George and is no longer my concern.”

Demelza turned slightly to face him and was surprised by the determination in his face. 

“You accept this now? Why?”

“Because it’s what she wants.”

“And so what Elizabeth wants is now what you want?”

She was not convinced that he still didn’t harbor feelings for his ex-love.  Or her child.

“I’m not saying that I didn’t wrong her Demelza or you for that matter, with my actions of that night.  In truth, I know that what I did was uncalled for but I can’t change that.”

He stared at her hoping she understood that he spoke from the heart.

“No, you can’t.  So what of Valentine?” she asked.

“What about him?”

“Ross, please. We cannot keep skirting the issue that quite possibly he is your….”

“Stop Demelza,” he interrupted her.  “He is Elizabeth’s child. That is all I know for certain. That is all she would tell me. Can we not leave it at that? What good would it do to speculate on anything else?”

Ross had not let go of her hand during this entire exchange, caressing her gently as he spoke.  Nor did his gaze falter from looking at her.  She was hard-pressed to continue the debate on the paternity of Elizabeth’s child for he at least faced the topic which was more than he’d done in the years since the boy’s birth.  Now she was uncomfortable for as they ended the discussion of his breaking of their vows they would have to begin on hers. 

“Perhaps you’re right.  If something more comes of it we will face it then,” she conceded.

“Yes.”

Silence again filled the room. 

“Now may I ask you something Demelza?”

His voice was low, but not angry.  If anything Demelza heard uncertainty, even fear.

“I suppose I can’t stop you can I? What is it that you want to know?” 

She kept her head bowed, focusing on their hands as a tear slipped and fell on their skin.

“Do you love him?”

She looked up and saw that his eyes were clouded with tears as well.  That was not the question she expected from him and yet she was grateful it was the one he asked because it was the one she could answer without hesitancy.

“No Ross. I don’t love him.  Not the way I love you.  Not the way I will always love you.”

She wept but didn’t move to wipe away the moisture that coated her cheeks.  He did.  Raising one of his hands, he brushed her face, drying them with the cuff of his shirt.  She watched him as he did this simple thing, not sure what to say.  Her hand stopped his.

“You’ll ruin your shirt if you keep doing that,” she said.

She smiled at him, her blue eyes glistening not just with moisture but with the love she still had for this man.  And he returned it.  They had hurt each other with their misguided intentions and assumptions yet somehow they both knew that they would weather this storm even if it took longer dissipate.  Their roots were deep and for some reason with each tempest, they got stronger.  He leaned forward and placed a kiss on her forehead.

“If only you had a handkerchief.”


End file.
